


First Dances

by cyankelpie



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anathema and Newt's wedding, Attempted Proposal, Established Relationship, Idiots in Love, Low-stakes misunderstandings, M/M, Post-Apocalypse, Post-Canon, Slow Dancing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:28:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24946912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyankelpie/pseuds/cyankelpie
Summary: Crowley bent closer to the angel and gestured at the dancing newlyweds with his glass. “D’you think you might ever want to do that?”Aziraphale looked at him, completely taken aback. Understandable. Crowley looked back steadily to show that he was serious. With a nervous chuckle, Aziraphale said, “Well, that’s—I’m afraid that’s not really my thing.”(Crowley tries to propose, and Aziraphale misinterprets the question. There is dancing. It's all very Soft.)
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 21
Kudos: 209
Collections: Aspec-friendly Good Omens





	First Dances

**Author's Note:**

> This is very stupid but I will not apologize

It was a lovely wedding. Of course it was, because Aziraphale insisted on making it so for the two people who were, at least in part, responsible for averting the apocalypse. Crowley maintained that breaking several people’s computers at the right moment wasn’t that impressive, to which Aziraphale replied that Crowley had gotten several commendations for just that thing, hadn’t he? Crowley mumbled that it was more complicated than that, his demonic plans took weeks of planning and a certain flair that Newt definitely lacked, and they bickered about it all through the wedding. It was still a lovely wedding, though, even though Aziraphale had to miracle a few of the doves they released at the end.

The reception, in Crowley’s opinion, was even better, mostly because it involved alcohol. Aziraphale was inclined to agree with him, on account of the food. Perhaps it was selfish of them to spend almost the entire time talking to each other, but in their defense, they had years of not being together to make up for. Since the apocalypse ended, they had spent almost every waking second together, and some of the sleeping ones, too, and let this thing that had been between them for centuries finally take root and blossom. “Perhaps we ought to mingle a bit more,” said Aziraphale, glancing around. “Are we being terribly rude?”

Crowley shrugged. He didn’t really care. “No one I’d rather talk to, really,” he said, earning a radiant smile from Aziraphale. The angel looked so content that it made Crowley’s heart sing. He hid his smile behind a sip of champagne and looked around.

Newt and Anathema had just finished their first dance, and other couples were slowly filtering onto the dance floor. The newlyweds continued dancing as if there was nobody else there, gazing at each other with the soppy, honeymoon-phase sort of love Crowley usually groaned at.

Not today, though. Today, he was busy thinking. Thinking about books and flowers and rings, right there on your hand where anyone could see it. Thinking about in-sickness-and-health and til-death-do-us-part. Thinking, mostly, about Aziraphale. He bent closer to the angel and gestured at the dancing newlyweds with his glass. “D’you think you might ever want to do that?”

Aziraphale looked at him, completely taken aback. Understandable. Crowley looked back steadily to show that he was serious. With a nervous chuckle, Aziraphale said, “Well, that’s—I’m afraid that’s not really my thing.”

“Oh.” Crowley hadn’t expected to be turned down so quickly. “Yeah, okay. Nevermind.”

A hint of worry appeared in Aziraphale’s face. Crowley had hoped he had done a better job hiding his disappointment. “Well,” he started, as if he needed to justify himself, “it’s just—You know angels don’t really—”

“It’s alright, I get it,” Crowley interrupted. “S’a human thing.”

“—Although perhaps I should say angels _usually_ don’t _,_ ” Aziraphale went on. “There was that time in Portland Place. But that was very different.”

Crowley’s eyebrows shot up so fast they almost broke the sound barrier. Aziraphale had gotten married before? How had Crowley never heard about it? “When was that?”

“Back in the 1880’s.” Aziraphale looked a little confused at Crowley’s reaction. “The gavotte, at that gentleman’s club? I’ve told you about that.”

“Must have been one hell of a gavotte,” Crowley muttered. He was certain he’d have remembered if Aziraphale had ever mentioned a previous marriage. Maybe he’d been speaking in euphemisms? A lot of what he said about that gentleman’s club sounded like euphemisms, now that he thought about it. Maybe he had completely misunderstood the meaning of the word “gavotte.”

Aziraphale was watching the dancers a little wistfully. “It has been a long time.”

Crowley’s eyes widened behind his sunglasses. The angel was considering it. “It has,” he added. “A very long time, for both of us.”

The song changed to a slow dance, which was really just an excuse for any couples to hold each other and pretend to sway in place. Newt and Anathema were still staring at each other with sickeningly romantic gazes.

“It doesn’t look very hard,” said Aziraphale.

“Er.” Crowley didn’t really know what to say to that. He was pretty sure marriage wasn’t all fun and games and wedding parties, though he wasn’t worried about the strength of his and Aziraphale’s relationship. Planning a wedding didn’t sound like a walk in the park, though. “Well, there’s a few logistical questions.”

Aziraphale’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Logistical…? Oh, I suppose some people might have difficulty finding a suitable partner. But I think you and I have that covered.”

“Sure,” said Crowley, even though that wasn’t really what he had meant. Aziraphale seemed to angling for Crowley to talk him into it. That wasn’t really how he’d prefer to go about this. “Only if you want to, though.”

Aziraphale still looked nervous, but he broke into a smile. “I do. Let’s do it, then.”

“Yeah?” Crowley felt himself smiling, powerless to stop it. His heart felt light. They were going to do it. They were going to get married, they were going to be _husbands._ “You want to?”

Aziraphale nodded, looking a little giddy himself. “Yes, I’m—I’m quite excited to try it out.” He looked over at the dance floor, then at Crowley, and, bouncing happily, took his hand and tugged him over to it.

“Oh,” said Crowley, as Aziraphale dragged him over. It turned out they had been having two different conversations. That explained the gavotte. “Oh, you thought I meant…”

Forget it, he couldn’t be disappointed when Aziraphale was about to dance with him, or do whatever passed for dancing in these days, anyway. In this case, what passed for dancing was Aziraphale wrapping his arms around Crowley’s neck and smiling at him while Crowley held him close and swayed back and forth. A minute or so later, Aziraphale leaned his head against Crowley’s chest with a contented sigh.

The song ended too quickly, and Aziraphale looked up, practically glowing with happiness. “That was lovely, dear.”

“Mhm,” Crowley agreed. “Hey, angel?”

“Yes, my dear?”

Crowley could ask his original question now, in the middle of all these people, after they had danced together. Or he could do it later, at the bookshop they had spent so much time in over the years, surrounded by comfortable familiarity. He could even ask it over dinner at the Ritz, just after dessert, when Aziraphale was full and sleepy and positively radiant with happiness, or at the park, maybe during a picnic, on a perfect day when there wasn’t a cloud in the sky…

Crowley angled his head towards the buffet. “‘Nother round of hors d'oeuvres, do you think?”

“I think that sounds splendid.”

Crowley followed him over, even though he had no intention of eating anything himself. He could ask the question any other time. They had eternity ahead of them, and, in all honesty, getting married wouldn’t change much between them. Just give it a different name. Crowley already had everything he’d ever wanted.


End file.
